


Long Lost and Always Treasured

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [288]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Bossy Steve, First Time, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: The First Avenger Compliant, Penetrative Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Travel, Two Steves and One Bucky, What Steve Should Have Done With Time Travel in Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 19:04:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20087233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Time's a bitch.





	Long Lost and Always Treasured

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [This](https://catchclaw.tumblr.com/post/186734379707/zacharylevis-steve-vs-steve-in-avengers).

Time’s a bitch. In Bucky’s whole life, it’s never done anything but take and take and take; there’s never been enough of it for the good times, far too much for the bad, and it’s been nothing but a curse on him, time--the clock’s hands have been enemies, never friends.

So maybe the gods owe him, maybe it’s they who’ve sent him this gift: two men outside of time, beyond it, who want nothing in the goddamn universe except him.

They love him, they need him, they whisper, an odd sort of chorus. One voice, two bodies, separate version of the same man.

When he groans their name, they both sigh; each presses his mouth to Bucky’s skin: the older, rougher one to the side of his neck, the younger, shyer one to his hip. His body is covered in sweat and spunk, theirs and his. They’ve been like this forever, for a heartbeat. Not long enough.

“Come on,” the older one murmurs, the prick of his beard a force against Bucky’s throat. “You’re so close, Stevie. Go on. He’s dying for to you to. Suck it.”

The man on his knees shivers, Bucky can feel it; quakes like a virgin, like he wasn’t the one inside Bucky a few ticks ago, like he’s forgotten pinning Bucky’s wrists and pushing into him so hard that it hurt, so hard that the Captain had caught his hips, stilled them, and loomed over them both, speaking softly into Stevie’s ear.

“Give him a minute,” he’d said, his gaze like smoke. “If you want it to feel good for him like it does for you, you have to let him get used to it."

Stevie’s eyes had fluttered; inside he had, too. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“I know you don’t, so trust me, huh?” The Captain had nuzzled Stevie’s cheek and hummed a little, tuneless. “I’ve got you. Hang on.”

The Captain had watched him and the Captain had smiled and somehow, the Captain had known when Bucky was ready, when he was desperate for it, which was good because by then, Bucky’d had no voice of his own.

“Do it now,” the Captain had said, his fingernails catching Bucky’s shaking shins. “Shit, Steve. Let him have it.”

He’d come with a roar, his Stevie, the one who’d pulled him out of hellfire. The body was different and so was the voice but the soul was the same one he’d grown up with, the one he’d done his best to protect even when said soul would’ve rather had its ass kicked, and when that one kissed him, he could taste every year behind it, all the longing, all the bullshit unsaid, all the affection, the desire, the need.

But now the Captain’s the one inside him, the one cupping his throat and turning their mouths together to kiss, and the years are still there but there’s something more behind it, something sad, almost bitter. It’s not the same kind of desperation that Stevie’s lips have; it feels a lot more like regret. What’s happened in the years between now and the then where this man’s from, Bucky doesn’t know, but time, oh, to the Captain, it hasn’t been kind.

“Put your hand in his hair,” he tells Bucky, the words a little sharp like his teeth, “and get his face where you want it. You have to show him. Part of him’s still afraid to believe it.”

Steve makes a low noise; another one, louder, when Bucky does as he’s told, when he pulls and Steve looks up at him with a heartbreaking grin and takes in the tip of his dick.

The Captain’s hips jolt. “That’s right. Just like that.”

And then somehow, in the same moment, Steve is lapping the tip of Bucky’s dick, face flushed, hands curled around the stretch of Bucky’s thighs and the Captain is fucking him, long, smooth strokes of his big, greedy dick, nails biting into the tremble of Bucky’s hips.

“You’re so tight,” the Captain grunts. “I knew you would be. Used to think about it all the time when I was wringing one out: how hot you’d be inside, Buck, how sweet and tight.”

Steve groans around him and Bucky thinks, he has, too; my best friend in the whole fucking world has wanted me like this forever and he’s never said a damn word.

“I almost lost you,” he’d panted before, pressing their foreheads together, shoving Bucky deeper and deeper into the bed. “Jesus, Buck, I did lose you. Thought I’d never see you again, and I thought--”

Bucky has clutched at his ass and felt the Captain shift beside them, felt his fingers trail up Bucky’s arm. “Can’t get rid of me that easy, kid. You got me now. I’m here to stay.”

“Damn right.” The words had slid over his mouth, certain, a big, Stevie grin. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

His mouth had been a mirror. “Always have been,” he’d said through water, through tears he was too happy to shed. “Nice of you to finally fucking notice.”

A shudder, a gorgeous, sweaty arch of Steve’s back, a gasp: “I’m never gonna forget.”

“He loves you.” The Captain’s voice is stained glass, splintered, his grip on Bucky’s body like a bruise. “He loves you like this, Bucky. Don’t you ever forget it.”

“Won’t,” Bucky gets out. “I can’t.”

A kiss, gentler now, a counterpoint to the slam of his hips. “Good. Don’t let him forget either, hmm? Promise me. I want you two to have what we didn’t.”

Bucky comes with that bittersweet in his ear, with his cock shoved in Steve’s mouth, hot and wet. He comes with the Captain clutching at him like something long-lost and always treasured, his cock hard, his mouth soft, his beard biting into Bucky’s throat, and when he lets go, stutters to a stop and pours himself out with a low, grateful shout, Bucky understands if only for an instant how his Steve, the one sitting up on his knees to lick tenderly at Bucky’s mouth, became the Captain, the same soul but torn at the edges, tattered, worn down by loneliness and loss. The Captain is the man Steve would have been if tonight had never happened, if this man had never knocked on their door.

“I’m you,” he’d said when they let him in, his eyes pinned fiercely on Steve. “I’m you from a lotta years from now, never mind how long, exactly. What’s important is that there’s something you don’t know about each other yet because you’re both idiots who think you’re gonna live forever. And I know you, at least”--here he pointed at Steve--“think that another night like this, another chance to do what you’ve wanted since the second you pulled Buck here out of Zola’s lab will come along someday. Guess what? It won’t. You don’t kiss him now, you never will, believe me, and I’ll be damned if I let you make that mistake.”

How they’d gotten from that to the three of them tangled together on the hotel bed, the air raid sirens yelling outside as the two of them kissed Bucky’s face and pinched at his nipples and spread him wide with their fingers and a tiny jar of Vaseline, Bucky isn’t sure, but now it doesn’t matter because he’s held them both in his body and he’s pinned gently between them, a petal between twin pages of a book, and they’re both whispering nonsense against his skin and trading the taste of his mouth and he knows in that moment precisely that each of these men, two versions of the same, will always adore him.

“Don’t get on the train,” the Captain whispers in Bucky’s ear, later, when they’ve collapsed into a sticky, sleepy heap. “Tomorrow, when they drop you in Austria. The whole thing's a trap, Buck; they know you're coming. Whatever you do, don’t get on that train.”

“I have to. That’s the mission.”

A sigh. “Fuck the mission. He’s your mission, that man right beside you. He needs you. I need you.” A brush of lips against his hair. “Don’t leave us both.”

In the morning, the man’s gone. The whole thing feels like a dream. Except Steve reaches for him first thing, lays one on him to beat the band.

“I love you,” he says with something like wonder, the whole of their lives in his eyes. “Can’t believe it’s taken me so long to say it.”

It’s as if he can feel the Captain’s breath on his neck, that hollow sound of regret--one he tells himself this Steve will never have reason to make. “Yeah, well,” Bucky says, “make me a promise, huh?”

“What’s that?”

He touches Steve’s face, traces the curve of that new and familiar smile. “Don’t you ever forget it.”


End file.
